


Forgive me

by uluithiad_naur



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Author Can't Tag, Dysfunctional Family, I had BOFA feelings, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Oropher's A+ parenting, So much angst, The Author Regrets Everything, Thranduil's A+ Parenting, and it became an angst fest, bad summary, dubious unlikely scenario, poor thranduil, the author tries hard, which I absolutely did not expect to be in there
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-30
Updated: 2014-12-30
Packaged: 2018-03-04 10:12:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,663
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3064016
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/uluithiad_naur/pseuds/uluithiad_naur
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thranduil was never exactly... a warm parent. They stepped uneasily around each other, cold and stern met with cold and stern, except every so often, when something, anything, brought them appallingly and fatally close, and the light show could be seen from Esgaroth.<br/>Legolas was not young, and he had seen grief change people. But he had never ventured to try and understand the King.<br/>He did not have a death wish, and Thranduil was hardly... forthcoming.<br/>But Legolas had always had Tauriel. He had had friends. In any case, he was his own master and if he wanted to leave, he could leave. And so he did.<br/>Now, these 4 years later, he came back. He was, of course, only visiting.<br/>It was, of course, mainly for Tauriel.<br/>Mainly for his friends.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Forgive me

**Author's Note:**

> So, a few things.  
> Disclaimer yada yada  
> I saw BOFA for the second time recently, so I thought, let's do some family h/c.  
> This happened.  
> I'm sorry.  
> I didn't even mean for it to be a child abuse angstfest but that's what happened. It's not even my headcanon. So this could sort of be AU?  
> I would have written more about the Dunedain, etc, but guys, at the end of the battle, Aragorn is like 10 (according to actual lore), so I left timelines relatively ambiguous.  
> There are flashbacks within flashbacks here, be warned.  
> And I am considering expanding/ continuing with some Legolas deals- gratuitous h/c ensues. But I am not even a remotely consistent updater so don't count on it. I also might write some shit Dagorlad! angst, but then again I may not because I am full of surprises!  
> Translations are at the end, please comment, and thank you for reading (especially if you ploughed through this author's note)

Legolas wandered through the halls of the workers, particularly those who needed to be close to the King, the guards, the healers, the cooks. He assumed he was looking for Tauriel, but in his heart he hoped he would not encounter anyone who had more than a passing acquaintance with him. He was tired, and had not missed the posturing and complex dances of the court. There was intrigue, of course, among the Dunedain, but of a different sort. It was more... honest. He had not yet presented himself to the King. In a foolish way, he hoped he would not need to.

 

The halls were quiet. It was an unholy hour of the morning, and he exchanged only cursory greetings with the elves he crossed paths with. He wandered on. He had already walked past the main bulk of the rooms of the guard, he noted to himself with a degree of indifference. These, the quarters of the healers, were comfortable, and tucked privately away. Legolas was, of course, on friendly terms with them. Not being was a serious tactical error and a move that any elf of any rank would grow to seriously regret.

 

As he continued, he realised that he would soon be facing a dead end and would have to return, but as he considered this, he heard a quiet, but horribly recognisable voice from behind the final door. He tried to deny what his memory told him to be true, but his footsteps drew him inexorably closer. The familiar, hesitant voice continued.

 

"I... worry, sometimes, that I have made him… as the Oakenshield was. As I am. Cold… accursed.”

 

Legolas, with a start, realised that the King was talking about him.

 

“From the first doomed to inherit the malice and vengeance and… pain of the restless and unforgiving dead. Heirs to wars that cannot and will not end as long as they are passed on to the living, who will make the mistakes of their fathers.”

The voice broke away. Thranduil sounded... vulnerable. Sad even. Legolas peered through the keyhole. The king was sat cross-legged on the floor with his back to Legolas, dressed simply, hair unbound and unadorned. He could have been anyone. With him, going about daily business, cleaning, sorting equipment, was a healer. Hallnestaril ,one of the oldest, whose eyes were intense and deep with many millennia.

 

“You are not your father,” she stated assuredly.

 

Thranduil ran his hands through his hair and replied, tiredly, “I suppose not.”

 

There was silence for a long time save for the quiet deft movement of the healer. Legolas almost left.

 

“I… wanted to… make things… better, but I can’t,” Thranduil added, sounding confused more than upset. “I miss her. And I miss him, strange as it is.

“But I pushed him away, and I knew what I was doing as I did, and could not change it.” He sounded regretful, now. Legolas had heard a limited spectrum of emotion in his father’s voice in his life, but it was being rapidly expanded.

 

“Does he hate me for it, I wonder?” Now just cold curiosity. “I always assumed Tauriel would be his Laitharil.” He gave a humourless and slightly hoarse chuckle and rested his head in his hands. “In what way have I not become my father, pray, enlighten me?”

* * *

 

 

 _He was asking about his mother again. Thranduil could usually fob off his questions with a stern glare and a non-answer, but this time Legolas would not shut up. He was young and foolish, and he knew as well as any of the Woodland elves that it was a bad time to disturb the King, the anniversary of her death, but he had come anyway, and his head was pounding, and the damn child would not get out, out,_ out

_He realised with a start that he had said that out loud. “Out!”_

_He had really drunk far too much, he thought blearily. But, on days like these, his friends were grief and alcohol, and certainly not curious children_

_“-why is it you don’t speak of her? I understand that you are grieving, but she was my mother also. Please, father. Father-“_

_How dare he claim understanding! Thranduil gathered himself to politely remove the elfling, but when he spoke, his voice was harsh and cold. “You…” he slurred a little. “You understand nothing! You deserve nothing! Get out, Legolas, beleaguer someone who will better tolerate your foolishness!”_

_He said something else that he did not remember and picked up a bottle to take out his frustration on the wall._

_But the boy had gone. Thank Eru._

And, later _, That was cruel and unecessary. Eru. I might have thrown the bottle at him by accident. He probably thought I was going to. Oh Eru. Fucking hell._

_He cursed a little more and sank into some strong wine._

* * *

 

_“I am ashamed to call you my son! I could kill you, little swine. Eru mine, I could throw you out of that damn window!”_

_“You expect to be king, little prince? I won’t allow it. I am glad your mother has passed, that she did not have to see you age! Maybe that’s why she passed!”_

_The prince bowed stiffly and left limping._

_He knocked quietly at the door of this healer’s rooms. It was opened quickly, but he did not meet the old elleth’s eyes._

_“Goheno nin.” He muttered. She hushed him and held him as he passed out._

* * *

 

_“Thranduil,” she whispered, blissfully happy, but there was a bitter taste to her smile. “I’m pregnant.”_

_He couldn’t speak. He couldn’t articulate the slightest thing. He knelt in front of her chair._

_“But… how… how can you… trust me?” His voice was barely audible._

_She looked a little heartbroken. “Oh, my love,” she said, choked, and took his hands. He wept into her lap. “Goheno nin,” he whispered._

* * *

 

_Thranduil laughed hoarsely, hysterically, into his drink until he was sobbing._

* * *

 

For no particular reason, Legolas remembered a distant incident. He was young, and stupid, and desperate to know about his mother, who he remembered distantly (and with her a different father), but only as a presence.

* * *

 

_He had come to his father’s study, knocked in a very official way to certain that his father would let him in, and in reply to the hoarse and hostile “what is it?”, opened the door._

_He had started nervously, but soon got into a flow of questions and accusations. His father just glared at him balefully. There were a lot of bottles. An impressive or appalling amount, depending on your point of view._

_“Out!” he shouted._

_Legolas, fool child that he was, just continued._

_“You understand nothing! You deserve nothing! Get out, Legolas, beleaguer someone who will better tolerate your foolishness! I am ashamed to call you my son.”_

_That had hurt. Legolas remembered every word, remembered the tears spring to his eyes. He remembered his father pick up a bottle. His eyes had widened, terrified, and he had scampered out of that room as fast as he could. He heard the bottle smash and he began to weep._

_He had spent a long time with Tauriel after that. She had been his saving grace. She had grown up hating her king, but who else could he have come to?_

* * *

 

“Well,” she shrugged, glanced at him sharply. “Legolas has never come to me, or any of us, in the middle of the night, bruised, bleeding, apologising politely and asking for bandages.”

 

Legolas frowned, and unpicked the sentence. His frown deepened and he began to panic.

 

Thranduil leapt to his feet in one fluid movement, and the two elves faced each other, one with a serene expression of challenge on her face, the other overcome by blind rage. Legolas barely stopped himself from gasping and alerting them of his presence. The right side of Thranduil’s face and neck were covered in angry burns, but a second glance informed Legolas that these were old burns. Old, old burns.

 

_Do not speak to me of dragon-fire._

“I thought you were wiser than to speak of things that have long been buried, and would stay as such,” he hissed down at her slightly smaller, slighter figure.

“I will speak of whatever I please when it concerns me, my lord!” she replied sternly, unafraid.

“When has that- _that_ \- ever concerned you?”

 

* * *

 

_He buried his head into her shoulder and sobbed. He mumbled something incoherently, so she lifted his head a little and spoke softly and tenderly; “What did you say, small one?”_

_“Goheno nin” . The child sniffed. “Goheno nin.”_

_She almost wept herself._

* * *

 

She stared at him in disappointment. “I only wish that you would consider yourself an entity apart from Oropher, rather than weighing your every action against him!”

His fists curled around a roll of bandages. He turned away from her and bowed his head. “Do not speak of him.” He said quietly, rage still flickering in his eyes although his voice was pleading.

“Then what would you prefer? Why, Thranduil, do you then come here, if not for a desire to hear the unspoken of? You may just as well chat to your simpering advisors- Eru knows you have enough of those- or-“

But the king had frozen. “I am sorry to disturb you, Estaril. I did not wish to-“ he continued stiffly as he started towards the door. Legolas nearly had a heart attack.

“Oh, you pig-headed, stubborn-“ she took his arm.

“Leithio nin,” he growled. She was unfazed and spun him around to face her. “Henig. Let us not quarrel, today of all days.”

 

Legolas was filing the conversation carefully away for later. He certainly could not untangle that knot of emotion here.

 

“Nae.” His father sighed and sat on the floor again with his head in his hands. “Goheno nin.” He said quietly. She sat by him and he rested his head on her shoulder. “It is already forgotten,” she answered tenderly.

 

Legolas left them.

**Author's Note:**

> Hallnestaril- name- attempt at 'exalted healer'  
> Laitharil- name (Thranduil's wife)- 'one who saves' I think  
> Goheno nin- forgive me  
> Henig- diminutive 'child'  
> Nae- alas  
> Leithio nin- release me  
> If I forgot something, mention it in the comments!  
> Thank you!


End file.
